Last week's column was nearly something I chose to keep close to home instead of allowing it to slip out into the world. Usually the words I build my weekly nonsense out of come quick and easy, but this farewell to a friend was nothing like that; again and again I found myself writing hundreds of words only to delete them and start over. In the end I gave up trying to write a "column" and simply tried to write the regret that was in my heart as I'd never have the chance to truly know my friend as well as she deserved.

It was the second most selfish column I've ever written.

Once the paper had printed and it was out there for others to read I'm not sure that I thought anyone would read it. One of the ways I fight down the anxiety of trying to come up with something worth reading is, of course, to pretend that nobody ever reads a single word of it.

Last week's column wouldn't let me pretend it went unread, though. Throughout the day and week that followed people would message me on Facebook or send me an email to tell me how much they enjoyed reading what I'd written, and I think I've been in shock ever since.

Some of the emails were from people who knew Susan Leder and were grateful that someone had put into words the swirl of emotions they were feeling at the loss of such a wonderful woman while others were from people who had lost a loved one in their own lives and felt a connection with what I'd written.

To anyone who reached out to me I am grateful for the kind words and flattered beyond belief.

So this isn't entirely a maudlin affair I want to share something that one particular person emailed me as well as a memory of something my grandmother had shared with me when I was a boy. As I do not know if this person would care for me to share their name in the paper I'm going to say that the first story came to me from J—.

J— wrote that she knew Susan and her family when Susan and a friend were left in charge of Susan's baby brother "Skipper" as their mother was visiting J—'s mother and drinking coffee. Before too long Susan and her friend came screaming "hysterically" into the house saying that they'd seen a "huge spider" and that it had run under the washing machine. Susan's and J—'s mothers went back to check on Skipper, who was a baby at this time, and kill the awful spider…only to come back "laughing and laughing."

The terrible spider turned out to have been a giant "evil" dust bunny.

Page 2 of 2 - Those kinds of stories are why I am so glad I decided to let loose my selfish column into the world. I can't help but wonder just what kind of a little girl Susan was, but this was a small window into that time in her life.

The story it reminded me of was from my own family, specifically my mom.

When I was a young boy my grandmother on my mom's side, Grandma Ethel, told me that when she and Grandpa Leon were younger and all of my aunts and uncles were either little babies or not even born yet, they would share-crop a little to help make ends meet. One of the crops they would work with was cotton, and the story she told was of the first time my mother was old enough to toddle out into the field with her.

The first moment my mother got a truly good look at a cotton boll she was just old enough to see the black shape and instantly think it was a very (very) scary bug…so she took off running and crying, saying it was a "Ta-Tie!" or a very bad bug. If I remember right Grandma Ethel told me that the family dog went out and caught my wayward little mother and brought her back to where she was supposed to be, by the nape of her diaper.

I'm not sure whether my mother's cotton monster or Susan's dust monster were the more scary of the two, but each one brought a smile to my face as I thought about them before writing this very column.

We are the sum of our experiences and we are the sum of all the people in our lives, no matter how big or small the connections between us.

Thank you for being in my life. Whether you are part of my family, one of my friends, someone I've only met once or twice or someone who has only ever met me through these words in our local newspaper…I am a better person for you being a part of my life.